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Monday, January 18, 2010

“The war is coming home to all of us . . . “


[The following letter was written by Vance, my dad, on Nov. 4, 1942. I don't have Ina's correspondence but I can tell that she continues to be upset. As I read my dad's letters, I inferred that agriculture was considered civil defense, and my grandparents, Ina and Julian, believed that if Vance had come home to the farm and taken it over, he might have avoided the draft. Their need for help at this time is rather urgent. Ina is 72 and Julian 79. The last ten years of farming with horses has been difficult for Julian. It's a real problem: they are struggling to subsist but the farm means so much to them that they just can't give it up. Besides, where would they go? What would they do? I think they see Vance stubbornly resisting his duty to help them, and I believe they suggest that if only he would agree to take over the farm, he might yet avoid the draft. Vance replies that it's too late to apply for a deferment. He did make it home for a brief visit before reporting for induction, though, and the photos here were taken at the farm during his visit -- November 1942.]

I appreciate all your kind thoughts and I know you are all with me whatever befalls. Of course I don't look forward to the army but on the other hand we must win this war. I doubt that I will be sent overseas but one never knows. The bad part is this: as you may have read by the papers the time granted inductees has been cut to one week instead of two. I applied for two weeks and was granted it at the time of my preliminary but I imagine this new order has wiped it out. If such is the case it will be impossible for me to get home for it will take two days to reach Portland alone and I must go on to Raymond and I must sell the car so you can see where I get off. I am sick about it but that is all there is to it. The war is really coming home to all of us, isn't it? I am really not greatly perturbed now that I have got used to the idea and I am living from day to day and letting the morrow look after itself.

As far as asking for deferment goes it is too late and anyhow I do not think it would be granted. I am on record as a welder and boilermaker and that may possibly make for a deferment but I haven't much hope of it. The thing which makes me most ill is that I have such a fine job and literally years of it ahead if I could only keep at it. [I'm not sure what the job was.]

I didn't ask Harry Llewellyn to ask for deferment for he is rather taciturn and he found out in the shipyards it did no good. He told me long ago of his experience in that line so I felt there was no need to say anything. I think you will get your allowance for dependents and if not I rather expect to get some sort of rating which will up my army pay to the point I can do for you financially. I have heard of several cases where it happened when one had some sort of specialized trade. Thanks anyhow from my heart for your cares and prayers and we will all look forward to better days.

Lovingly, your son, Vance

[Top photo, right to left: Ina's sister, Ida, and Ida's daughter, Edna, who were visiting from Drain, OR, at the time; Vance and his mother, Ina; Vance's sister, Pearl Sanders; and his father, Julian (Jack). The second photo is Jack, Ina, and Vance before the old cabin where my dad was born. My guess is this poignant photo would never have been taken were it not that Vance had been drafted.]

3 comments:

  1. Where was this cabin located? How were they using this cabin after they built the 1917 house?

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  2. Your comment on not knowing what job he's referring to makes me realize how little we sometimes know about our parents' lives until it's too late to find out. We found all kinds of pictures and items with no explanations after Dan's parents and grandparents died and there was no way our questions could be answered.

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  3. My dad didn't like to talk about the past, but more on that later. And when I asked him about the community of Gilbert, he told me to talk to Aunt Ethel.

    The cabin was at the top of the lane, in the vicinity of the maple tree. Evidently they provided the house to a hired hand when they first vacated it. Then it became a machine shed. My dad stored the tractor there. We burned it down in 1971.

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